Premonitions

I consider myself a down-to-earth and rational guy. My long-term decisions are rather well-though-out, grounded in analysis and stand to some reasons, while short-term choice happen to be made on the spur of the moment. I believe to some extent in fate, albeit find a rational explanation for twist.

May the called off trip to the USA serve as an example. My problems with spine had lasted for years, I strained it in warm months in the run-up to the cancelled holidays, so a logical chain of events leading up to my injury could be lined up. But when I turn off my brain, my heart tells me the fate has violently prevented me from popping the question. Since that serious health crisis the relationship has gone downhill, especially since it is easier to recognise how lousy it is when things go wrong.

At the turn of year I was down with flu. Being preoccupied with work and charity in the last quarter of the year explains why my immune system was weakened and why the course of the illness was quite severe. On those short, cold days spent mostly in bed I had a recurring premonition 2026 would bring a really tragic life-changing, yet not precisely defined event. I could imagine decease of one of my parents, a serious health crisis, a serious damage to my property or financial assets or something I would be recovering from for months. The only such event so far were the aforementioned problems with spine, with full recovery lasting around a year.

The premonition could have been logically caused by protracted stress experienced in 2025: struggling with my own health, my parents’ health, break-up and uphill dating, burn-out in Szlachetna Paczka, burn-out at work and a long fight to get promoted. None of those events is particularly brutal, but if they pile up and one has little room to regenerate, they can turn one’s hair more grey.

So far, the fears have not materialised. The worst that has happened to me was having my wrist mangled by the aggressive dog, but the recovery goes well, despite my thumb being numb several times a day.

Future-wise, I have grown obsessed with attempting to stay physically and mentally fit until old age, which I believe is overall positive. Since the beginning of Lent I have given up on sweets and salty snacks altogether and don’t miss it. After the accursed intoxication, I have given up alcohol for hell knows how long. Restriction for physical strain after being bite by the dog have prevented me from exercising daily and more intensive effort, but at least I walked for an hour each day.

The shape of my future fills me with some dread. Sociologists predict by 2030 45% of population under 40 would be single (quotation source needed, I read it, but can’t trace it back). With a growing self-focus finding a female life companion willing to raise a family might be difficult, not because I am not attractive enough and women would prefer more handsome or resourceful men, but because they will need no man at all. What humans want from life has changed. At some moments I suppose humanity is bound to extinct and it makes to point to preserve it from facing its despicable fate.

Petsitting (not to be repeated for a while)

I once portrayed the experience of living with a dog under one roof. Dogs are the most time-consuming and duty-burdening animals of those domesticated by humans. Apart from the period when Mela lived in my place, I played host to her and looked after her several times before and a few times after that. I realise taking care of a dog, especially on one’s own might be a nuisance, but I have also discovered how big a potential for building a relationship with a dog exists. Some would argue fostering a connection with an animal is much easier than with a fellow human and it is hard to prove them wrong.

Except for Mela who for some time was a household member, in January 2025 I took care of a 10-month old Border Collie for two weeks. Dogs of that breed are smart, yet demanding as hell too and looking after them, so that a BC fulfils its potential, takes a lot of time and dedication. Around that time I realised with the specifics of my work, i.e. being away from home for more than ten hours frequently and with one or two business trips per month, becoming a dog’s only minder was out of reach, but I could organise my work in such manner that I would work from home for a week or two when someone else’s dog would be staying at my place.

For starters in putting it into practice my friend and I chose Ringo – my friend’s mother’s enormously stressed-out dog. The case was more than difficult, but at the beginning the fearful dog appeared to be calm and trustful when by my side. We had a few meetings to break ice and for the passing week, Ringo was meant to holiday in my place.

To cut long story short, on the second day of his stay, the dog was so anxious enough, to become aggressive and to bite me severely on an attempt to take him for a walk (in the past he had been so scared of venturing outside that he could stay home for up to 36 hours without pissing). After this bout of aggression, the friend must have hurriedly turn up to take Ringo away, while I ended up in a hospital with the wounds inflicted by the aggressive dog. Luckily, neither tendons nor muscles have been fractured and I am already pulling through (with a ban for any physical exercise which might cause bleeding in effect until Tuesday), though scars on the skin might keep me company for months or even for a lifetime.

For some time, I will not be trying to hit it off with any dog. After going overboard with alcohol in February I feel repulsion towards alcohol which has not eased off markedly. Now, after being attacked by a dog at my home, I will feel diffident towards them for a while. For posterity, the night I spent with Ringo under my roof was the period of most acute stress I experienced since several years. Each day I have to tackle challenging or rather nerve-wracking situations and handle them, but I am not accustomed to fearing being physically attacked by any creature. Being at such peril has made me appreciate the safety I am in the luck to have a part of my daily grind.

The flat - half year into...

Yesterday I deliberately (and without regret) missed the opportunity to celebrate half-anniversary of purchasing the flat. Having spent most of the Saturday running errands related to furnishing it, I did not even drop in on there (caught up today). After six months being continuously busy handling the endless restoration, the sound of the word remont makes me feel queasy.

In the purchase-related euphoria I have definitely underestimated the scope of works. Before stepping inside as an owner, I had planned something more than redecoration, with major refurbishments to be done in kitchen, hall, bathroom and toilet. As the day after the purchase I checked the technical condition of windows (and decided to order new ones), the list of things to be done once, but properly and for years began to grow longer and longer. The redecoration turned into a makeover, which actually was indispensable to a neglected 20-year-old dwelling. With hindsight, I believe a few works more could have been done as well.

The time frame for the venture has definitely been underestimated, I missed it by a long shot and my horizon of 3 months was extended to slightly more than 6 months. The major cause was the first crew of builders which had been postponing the onset of their works week by week, until I my father found new craftsmen (fortunately, they came in mere 3 weeks later). The remont has been a valuable lesson of patience.

Budget-wise, I have not summed up all expenses yet, however if I overshoot my target of 1,500 PLN per sqm, the overrun will not break the bank (annual bonus arrives in March).

Actually everyone who has had their dwelling refurbished experienced has learnt that:

- Murphy’s law works well on construction front (for the sake of caring about your mental health, worth distinguishing those mishaps you could have prevented, had you been more familiar with technical issues from those for which you should not blame yourself),

- nearly all builders and other professionals are a different breed (oblivious of concepts such as reliability, diligence, deadline, agreement).

While talking to people who have endured their remont a few years ago, most sympathise with me and recall their traumatic time. Mine actually has not been so ghastly thanks to involvement of my father who has spent hundreds of hours overseeing the process – otherwise I would have to seriously consider hiring somebody who would look after it.

Today, while at the scene, I forgot to take any snaps but:

- kitchen furniture have been partly installed (originally due to be completed by 8 February), besides a table and two chairs are the only missing elements,

- hall awaits wardrobes (due in the first week of March),

- bathroom is generally ready, but lacks a washing machine (a matter of a few days between an order and a delivery so I have been putting this purchase back for a few weeks now) and cabinet (due to arrive on Wednesday),

- toilet also awaits, but a cupboard,

- bedroom furniture to be delivered on Wednesday (hopefully) and the wardrobe to be put in along with the one in the hall,

- living room furniture have been ordered, but should arrive in late March.

Besides, several minor things still need to be done… I due course

Another set of remont musings after I move in. Sick and tired, but elated will I be then, by then just striving to carry it through.

The tide must turn one day

Have not kept you posted in the topic of tidings from the remont front. The builders who had promised to set off on 1 October, then on 8 October so when for the third time they explained themselves they were stricken by some setbacks with their previous commitments, my father made a few calls to his friends and found another crew, but they will (hopefully) kick off on 5 November and have estimated all works would last until Christmas. I consider this a miracle since on Friday I read in one of reputable dailies the best crew have backlogs for two years!

The fact the remont has gotten behind schedule should not take me aback, just like being double-crossed by the builders, an experience nearly everyone is familiar with. I have even learnt to live with frustration that so little is going on in my dwelling. My father has nearly finished (taking a break for the grandpa’s funeral period) the rewiring; electricity wires had been in such mess that according to dad it was a miracle a fire had not broken out in the flat; with the seller being accountable for the mess, as the wiring had been totally inconsistent with original documentation of the flat (glad to have hit it off with the property administrator).

Negativity has taken over me in recent days (or weeks). Whatever I get down to, whatever I handle, my head is full of scenarios of what can go wrong. Remont, especially if you do not decide to hire somebody to look after it and take that burden off your back and come up with solutions if things tangle up, is an endless streak of nuisances, a steep ascent uphill, a struggle against unreliable people. To finish this paragraph with a glimmer of hope, there were a few incidences when things went smoothly, to my surprise.

At work it is uphill as well, things to complain about are same as ever: excessive workload, poor organisation and unreliable workmates. Two last months of the year loom particularly ominous, as the imminent handover of client coverage and the merger will increase the work beyond the point in which one can control the whole mass of tasks to be duly done. Relief is said to be brought in 2019 and the prospect of better days is realistic.

Memories of the relationship terminated more than three months ago (in the flat-related haste I still have not fully got over it, rather I have drowned out the waterfall of thoughts in mind head) and family affairs, including the recent departure of my grandpa (which lasted a few days, since his body was emaciated, yet his heart remained strong for long) also do not help me reach the peace of mind.

I long for a blissful feeling of being carefree, a state I last experienced during the holidays in late May. Five months of being restless and restlessness are being transmitted to my body, causing continuous muscle tension, headaches, sleeplessness or constant drowsiness.

I have learnt to cope well with work-related stress. I have picked up a wonderful ability to cut off all affairs after crossing the doorstep of my office. Yet far more challenges need to be tackled outside office (where I spend around 50 hours per week, or 55 hours, if commutes are counted in) and time to handle them is not infinite. If I choose not to let up and deal with all the stuff I need to, little time I left for relax. This month I went out with friends to town twice (counting out two lunches out of office), took a 30-kilometre bike ride two weeks ago, went to the swimming pool five of six times and went to the cinema once. The rest of my time was dedicated to duties.

On top I need to get the grips with the feeling of being unfairly hurt by evil people and evil world which is not shaped the way I would want it to be. This feeling is not entirely new to me, yet the intensity with which it is hitting me and the extent to it is distorting my perception of what goes on around are disproportionate. These days I actually don’t feel like talking to anyone nor meeting anyone, I feel like clamming up and waiting out this sombre phase.

The imbalance in life must be a temporary state. I find consolation in prospects of a better tomorrow. One day the flat is refurbished and furnished, one day workload is within my capabilities, one day I wake up and have the comfort of having only to catch up with all things I lack time to do now, all pleasurable. I foresee that moment comes in four months. By then I have no choice but to grit my teeth and not give up.

Stressed-out, but why?

Psychologists, also those home-grown, excel at compiling seemingly useless rankings of most stressful events in life. The lists are usually based on surveys and top picks such as spouse’s death, divorce of job loss tend to repeat on all of them.

Oddly enough, when you speak of stress factors, traumatic events, such as bereavement, break-up or some other manifestations of losses naturally spring to mind. As it turns out, both trauma and joy can bring about serious anxiety. Nearly all life events which rank among top10 most stressful situations have one common denominator – they entail a noticeable change in life, which might be either positive or negative. If your close relative passes away, if you divorce, if your offspring fly the nest, the change is (in most instances) irreversible and you have get over it. On the other hand, birth of a child, taking up new job, getting seriously involved in a relationship (especially after years of living on one’s own), or moving to a new place, are considered to be positive changes in life, yet for most people cause some degree of tension.

The rankings also contain nerve-fraying events one has to live through, such as family gatherings during Christmas, meeting girlfriend’s or boyfriend’s parents for the first time, public speeches (for individuals affected by stage fright), job interviews, visits to a dentist or just doing something for the first time (travelling abroad, etc.).

Definitely stress should be tamed, yet since humans vary between among one another, there is no suitable-to-all prescription for coping with it. Personally, I strive to rationalise what exactly can cause anxiety, i.e. dig down to reach the roots of my anxiety and overpower them directly. I cannot claim to be successful all the time, but I am proud to have brought under control stress at workplace and to have learnt to keep safe distance towards things which wind up but are beyond my control.

Finally, I posit people get stressed-out every time they walk out of their comfort zone, which leads to a foregone conclusion stress is in many situations positive and natural since it accompanies making your dreams come true. As my friends says, everything you dream of is on the other side of you fears, the fears you need to overcome. In other situations, i.e. those categorised as traumas, experiencing stress proves we are humans and cannot get over some events in life devoid of feelings. 

Off to Italy in business next Sunday, so the next posting (photo coverage of the trip) around 17 September.